A Note for the Faint Hearted
by Beckthter
Summary: To find a man of good fortune and character? Unlikely. But to find a man like this who also inspired her to love? Impossible. -- A wrenching love story about the consequences of not following your heart. Please review!
1. Songbird

**A Note for the Faint-Hearted**

**_  
C_****_hapter One_**

_Songbird_

Her warm, pure voice beckoned him through the modest entry hall and on into the parlour. This is how he had first met her, sitting at the piano forte while her sister played harmony on the violin. Sunlight streamed in through glass doors from the crisp autumn afternoon outside and onto the singer's long, curly red hair, making it shine golden.

_Just another opportunistic young woman_. He warned himself, a sharp memory cutting to the surface of his consciousness; it didn't stop though his eyes from straying toward her, didn't stop her lilting voice from pulling at the hard space above his abdomen as her words went down like a swilled glass of brandy. The song was an unusual one, sullen and strong, and he had not heard its type before. He shook his head imperceptibly. _No, never again._

Their audience, gathered around on settees, had their backs to him and the performers' eyes did not leave their instruments. So he watched unnoticed and entranced.

That was, until his father, aunt, uncle and cousin entered the room with such flair that the pretty musicians were startled, halting their song, and the audience were forced to turn their attentions to the new guests.

"Don't stop your tune on our account dears!" His aunt exclaimed. The songbird blushed, mumbled apologetically and stood. There was a spattering of hesitant, awkward clapping as both girls moved away from their instruments.

Their host stood almost immediately, scuffling as quickly as possible to introduce his new guests. "May I introduce Lord and Lady Lindsay of Havershire Park and their daughter, Miss Arabella Lindsay."

"Thank you, Colonel Gower, and let me introduce my brother-in-law and nephew," Lord Lindsay indicated to the men standing next to him, "Mr Alastair Boyd and his son, Mr Lucas Boyd. They have just recently arrived from Scotland, and will be staying with us until the winter."

Lillian bowed toward the young man with dark hair and icy blue eyes. He nodded, regarding her with haughty disdain.

Colonel Gower indicated to his daughters "Mr Boyd, these are my daughters, my eldest Lillian, my middle child Rosemary, and my son, William. Our new neighbours Lieutenant Stanley and his wife have also joined us this morning. They have just recently been married and moved into Mothecombe next door."

The new guests tried hard not to react to the lieutenant's unfortunate state. His sacrifice to the war was undisguisable and he was left, to his own continuing horror for all those newly acquainted with him, with nothing below the elbow of his lower right arm.

Mr Lucas Boyd, on the other hand, did not seem much to notice. As more nods and curtseys proceeded he was more interested in studying his new acquaintances, Lillian and Rosemary. Lillian was taller than her sister though not as lithe. She had dark red hair with pale freckled skin, a bright trusting face and wide blue eyes. Her sister Rosemary was dark of eyes and hair and, much like her father; she had long, graceful limbs and a small delicate face.

His aunt had brought him up to speed on their acquaintances' situation before his arrival at their large mansion:

"_The Colonel's wife – God rest her soul - passed away five years ago, the consumption you see - we were all in a panic - but luckily no one else was infected at the time. Beautiful woman she was too. Their eldest, Lillian, is uncannily like her. Unfortunately after his retirement Colonel Gower did not retain much fortune, enough to suffice of course, but I'm afraid it will affect any chance of his daughters marrying well. They do though have that countenance which seems to befit those young ladies that marry above their station. They may have some hope yet."_

"_Are there many rich men in the area for them to prey upon?" He had asked sourly._

As they were being introduced, Lillian returned Arabella's surreptitious smile and knew her young friend was bursting to get herself and her sister alone so she could tell them everything about her eligible cousin. Arabella was an only child and, although significantly indulged by her parents, did not have a close companion to share her secrets with and so confided in Lillian and Rosemary with enthusiasm whenever they met. Lillian always counted herself luckier than Arabella in that respect.

She glanced at the young man and was sure, for some reason unbeknownst to her, that he was _glowering_ at her, so much so that she looked away quickly, thankful when Arabella asked them to step outside with her.

Before moving outside, Lillian gave Mrs Stanley an apologetic look for excluding her from their furtive conversation. The newlywed couple had moved into the small property next door and poor Mrs Stanley was having a little trouble fitting in to the slow pace and sparse population of the countryside, being from London herself. Lillian found herself getting along very well with her new neighbour and so tried to help her fit into their unfamiliar ways as much as she could.

Once the girls were seated on the lawn just outside the parlour, Arabella's bottled up words eagerly spurted out.

"What did you think of him? My cousin - Isn't he dreamy?" She gushed.

Lillian looked through the parlour windows at the object of Arabella's affections. She had not heard Mr Lucas Boyd say two words since their meeting and, apart from the scowling, could not make any judgement of his character. He had a refined stance about him, but his demeanour was quite stony. His features were handsome enough, but with no knowledge of his countenance, this alone could not entice her.

"I suppose he is good looking... if you like an older man." Giggled Rosemary, who was a year older than Arabella.

"Rosie! You suppose! How could you not see anything but splendour in those wonderfully blue eyes and that strong jaw?" Arabella sighed.

"We have never heard you mention them before. Are you close with the family?" Asked Lillian.

"No, they live much too far away. He lives with his parents and sister in Glasgow, Scotland, where he works for his father's architecture firm. It's doing quite well, I believe. I did meet them once before, when I was a small child. I remember he was very kind to me and we played all sorts of riotous games."

"Why have they travelled so far from home?"

Arabella leant forward conspiringly. "I'm glad you asked, Lily." She glanced around. "My father first said that my uncle had business in London to attend to and so decided they would visit us while they were there. But London is still quite far, and I was sure there must have been more appealing reasons." She waited for them to ask, but when no eager demand of information came forth, she continued on her own. "Before their arrival, my mother insisted that I be on my best behaviour while they are staying with us. She made me pack up my doll collection and insisted on new, more grown up dresses and a new haircut before they arrived."

Now that Arabella had said it, Lillian did notice a more mature appearance in her friend, even if her behaviour had not changed a bit.

"She also brought in a ghastly woman for six weeks of deportment classes. They were horrid and besides, I scarcely need them." Arabella's rolling eyes and shrugging shoulders told Lillian otherwise. "And since Lucas' arrival my mother has not stopped talking of my accomplishments and qualities. At first I thought it was merely her being a proud mother, but then one night I overheard my parents talking about him."

Lillian's curiosity was captured. "And? What did they say?"

Arabella grinned with satisfaction. "Well I couldn't quite hear them completely, but they kept mentioning Lucas' 'suitability' and his 'prospects'..."

Lillian and Rosemary caught on to what Arabella was trying to tell them and stole an amused glance at each other.

Rosemary spoke first, watching Lucas conversing with her father. "So you think that he is here to propose?"

"Well I don't know for certain, of course," Arabella said sheepishly, "but don't all signs point to that possibility?"

"But Arabella," Lillian proceeded cautiously, so as not to offend her friend. "He must be at least ten years your senior."

Arabella scoffed "Hardly Lillian, he's twenty eight and besides, I will be sixteen within the month and twelve years really isn't that much when you think of it in those terms..."

To Lillian the thought of Arabella being married, let alone to this man, was quite ridiculous. Lillian very clearly remembered Arabella pleading with Rosemary to play dolls with her hardly a year ago, while still wearing her hair in pigtails and frills on her dresses.

"...I'm sure the whole purpose will be exposed soon anyway. We're having a ball for my birthday - he may even have proposed by that stage - but if not, then I am at least quite certain that he will dance every dance with me." Arabella watched Lucas and looked quite pleased with herself.

Lillian felt a pang of pity for the poor girl. She could no more see Lucas proposing to Arabella than she could see herself running away with Lord Lindsay's very old and very fat father. But then again, stranger things had happened.


	2. Because Thou Art My Brother

**_Chapter Two_**

_Because Thou Art My Brother – Genesis 29:15  
_

"Come William! Out of bed!" Lillian pulled the covers out of her brother's tight-fisted grip. "It is beautiful and sunny outside. Why don't we study in the woods today?"

William opened his cranky eyes a slit. "Will there be arithmetic?"

"Yes William, there will be arithmetic."

He groaned and sat up with a frown. "Why can we not have Mrs Peevers back?" He heaved his short legs onto the floorboards. "She never made me do arithmetic."

"Because Mrs Peevers was paid to keep you happy, little brother, I am not."

Lillian helped William dress and chatted enthusiastically about the lessons ahead while he ate breakfast in silence.

She knew he was only seven, but Lillian wondered whether her young brother was more aware about their family's situation than she gave him credit for. The whole day long he was distant and sulking; when finally, in the middle an explanation of the life cycle of common moss species, she exasperatedly asked "William, will you please tell me what the matter is?"

William, finally looking at his sister, sighed dramatically. "I don't know."

"Come on Will, you can tell me."

"Well," he said quietly "I was thinking about Mummy."

This gave her pause for a moment. William often spoke about their mother as if he had known her, but she had died while he was still a toddler. She guessed it was because she and Rosemary had always tried to speak about their mother around him, so he would still feel familiar with her.

Lillian pulled him into her lap. "What about darling?"

"Well, I was thinking that if Mummy were here she would buy me new toys like the other boys."

"Do you need new toys?"

"I don't know." He looked at the ground. "They tease me."

"Who do? The boys at Sunday school?" William nodded. "Well then, their toys mustn't be very exciting if they waste their time teasing you must they? What do they tease you about?"

He spoke in a very small voice. "Because of my toys and... my clothes."

Lillian looked at his appearance and felt a twinge of guilt. She had not bothered to notice before that his pants and jacket were now too short for his quickly sprouting body; and the hand-sewn patches on his elbows and knees were tattered.

"I suppose we will have to go for a shopping trip soon," her mind turned to her father's usual response when she asked him for money. Perhaps she could ask Mr Harper the tailor for credit... "But you do have a lot to be thankful for, don't you Will? Remember what I told you?"

William nodded. "We are blessed as long as we are protected by the roof over our heads, a loving family and a merciful God."

"Do you not believe that?"

"I do Lily.... It's just that... Daddy doesn't want our roof anymore; and if Mummy were here she wouldn't make us leave."

"What do you mean Will? What did Papa say?"

"He was talking to Mr Toms about coming over to look at the house... and Joseph Toms said that his daddy sells houses and Mr Toms was going to sell our house and then we wouldn't have a house anymore..." William stopped as his tearful sobs constricted his little voice.

Lillian, alarmed, held him tightly. "Oh Willy! Don't you worry about what silly Joseph Toms said. Papa was probably talking about using the house to get a loan from the bank. Sometimes grown-ups need to do that for money, did you know that?"

William wiped his cheeks and shook his head.

"Well they do. All the time. So you see? There's nothing to worry about is there?" She placed him on his feet and removed her handkerchief to clean his face.

As she was fussing over him he went quiet and still again. She decided not to push this time. Finally he piped up "Lillian?"

"Hmmm?"

"Where is Papa?"

Lillian paused. "You know he has gone to London darling."

"But why does he always go away?"

The truth was the very reason her family was in the situation they were. The truth had brought shame and embarrassment to them countless times. It had gotten worse as she had gotten older until now, when he hardly spent any time at home at all. She had put together the pieces from various people who had seen him in London: friends he brought home boasting of their escapades; or horrified acquaintances gossiping over his downfall. The truth was that he spent his time in London drinking and gambling, in the company of prostitutes and conmen. Every time he left her she said her last goodbye.

But she could not tell her dear, sweet brother this.

"He goes to see his friends and Uncle Filgate, and he goes to make money so we can buy you some new clothes!" She tickled his armpits and he let out a shriek of laughter. "Now what are we going to do about this silly Joseph Toms, making up naughty stories, hmmm?"

William shrugged.

"Frogs in his shoes?" Lillian looked at him with mock-thoughtfulness.

He giggled. "Slugs in his gloves!"

"Rocks in his socks?"

And so it went on, until William was fully reassured and soon back to his normal self; cheerfully ignorant once again and forgetting the day's anxieties as children often do.

Lillian could not forget so easily. For, even if her father was borrowing money with the house equity, it meant that they were not in a stable financial situation, confirming her suspicions and making her father's demise concrete in reality. But what could she do but sit and watch? Her fortune rested in the hands of men; some worthy and honourable, but most not so. It was her lot in life, along with other women of her class and time. The best she, and her family, could hope for was that she married well; forever wiping away the cares, and debts, of her closest relations.

To find a man of good fortune _and_ character? Unlikely. But to find a man like this who also inspired her love? Impossible.


	3. The Insult

**_Chapter Three_**

_The Insult_

Lucas sighed dramatically as Arabella prattled on about some other inane thing he was not listening to. He stared dully out over the grounds of Havershire Park, smothered in a cotton blanket of low lying mist.

They sat drinking tea in the drawing room, in front of French doors thrown open to let in the pale morning light. It was obvious to Lucas that Arabella was infatuated with him; as she babbled about the latest gossip from the elite of London, she would lower her chin to look at him coyly through her eyelashes and titter at anything remotely amusing that came out of his mouth.

_Poor deluded girl_, he thought. If only she knew that Lucas had no use for women or love in his life; and even if he did he would hardly waste it on a child such as her. A man only needed three things: a sound occupation, respectable friends and fine ale.

_And this frilly little doll is taking me away from them all,_ he thought irritably.

He wished his father would just speak to Lord Lindsay and get the entire business over and done with. Was this slow, careful cultivation necessary? Surely he did not expect them to stay with them for the _whole_ winter? The thought made him want to drown himself in the Lindsay's ridiculously gauche fountain.

To add insult to injury, Arabella's monologue was interrupted by the announcement of Lillian Gower.

"Good morning, Arabella, Mr Gower, thank you for the invitation." Lillian said as she curtseyed.

Lucas rose with Arabella who clapped her hands gleefully but then paused. "Where is Rosie?" She asked, frowning.

Lillian thought back to the fight she had had with Rosemary before leaving their home.

"Rosemary," She had said sternly, "I will not go alone."

"You shouldn't have to go at all! I know you don't want to Lily, it's only Arabella."

"That is not the point, you are being rude and selfish."

"Ha! Me being selfish? Have you forgotten who you are visiting? I can't leave anyway, I must help Hetty prepare for our dinner with the Stanleys. Or had you forgotten?"

It was a convenient enough lie that Lillian could not argue against it. She scowled and walked out into the clinging mist, toward Havershire Park

"She had some home duties to attend to." Lillian offered pathetically.

"Home duties?" Arabella asked incredulously, who had never had a duty yet in her short life. "Well, never mind, I suppose we can still play Whist with three players, however boring it may be. Lily, would you be a darling and fetch my cards for me? They are on the table in the lounge."

Normally, Lillian would have scolded Arabella for being so bossy, but she could not today, not in front of Mr Boyd. She wandered off in search of the cards, meeting a maid along the way, who told her that Arabella had last left them in the same room she had just come from.

Rolling her eyes in frustration, Lillian made her way back into the drawing room, but the mention of her name stopped on the threshold.

"Lillian and I were speaking of you the other day..." Arabella told Lucas with feigned indifference.

"Really?" he responded in a voice that said he had no interest at all.

"Yes, I was just informing her of what an accomplished young architect you were, and that you were opening a firm in London. I told her that any young lady who grabbed your attention would be fortunate indeed--"

"Good Lord Bella," he cut her off, "You didn't give her the impression that I had money, did you? The last thing I need is some wretched woman sinking her money-grabbing claws into me because she is under the impression that I have a small fortune..."

"Lucas!" She hit his arm playfully and giggled, in the manner one does when know they should not be laughing. "Don't be horrid!"

Lillian's face burnt with resentful anger. She turned quickly on her heel to flee the hateful pair.

"What? I am merely protecting my-" But his sentence was cut off by an almighty smashing sound. He and Arabella immediately rushed to the source of the noise and found Lillian, standing stiff and white-faced, in the centre of a hundred shards of china.

In her rush to leave, Lillian had not seen the expensive vase sitting at hip height, and sent it crashing to the floor.

"Lily! What have you done!" Screeched Arabella, just as a maid appeared and seeing the mess, disappeared again to fetch help.

"I- I'm-" Lillian stammered.

"That was Mama's favourite vase!" Arabella scolded her.

"I was just walking out and I did not see it there."

"You were leaving?" Lucas asked, with a shrewd look.

Lillian cursed herself for the mistaken omission. "Yes, I am suddenly feeling unwell." She curtseyed. "Arabella, Mr Boyd." She said shortly, turning and exiting as quickly as possible down the hallway.

With an unsettling jolt Lucas deduced, by the look on Lillian's face and by her proximity to the drawing room when she broke the vase, that she had heard them. _What do you care?_ A voice taunted.

As Lillian disappeared from view, Arabella crossed her arms. "Now how are we supposed to play whist with only two?" She pouted, her little brow creasing.

Lucas barely contained the urge to roll his eyes.


	4. The Ball

**_Chapter Four_**

_The Ball_

Corsets were tightened to their very last stretch. Hair was pinned in the most feminine styles. Lips and cheeks were pinched and their mother's finest jewellery was brought out for this special occasion. It was the night of Arabella's ball.

"What do you think?" asked Rosemary, twirling dramatically for her sister.

"Enchanting... as always." Lily watched her sister's slender frame and defined eyes with a little jealousy. She felt her own pale complexion faded into the background in comparison.

"Oh Lily, you really do look so much like Mama! Do you remember how we would watch her get ready for balls and then try on all her best dresses as soon as she and papa were gone? And I always made you play the dashing young man because you were the tallest!" Rosie laughed. "Lily you are just as elegant as she was. Maybe the mysterious Mr Boyd will ask you to dance with him and we can turn that snobby Arabella green with envy!"

"Rosie, would you punish me so! And what has Arabella done to deserve such spitefulness?" Lily chastised her sister with a smirk. "She will already be pouting all over the place because he hasn't proposed yet. Can you really imagine what would happen? I'm sure hell hath not seen such fury!"

It was only at church every Sunday that Lillian would see Mr Lucas Boyd. He would not so much as even nod at her as she passed and still not a word had been said between them. His father, it seemed, did the talking for both of them. He was a pompous, red-faced, overbearing man and no matter how many words he spoke, Lillian could not understand a single one of them with his thick Glaswegian accent. At the end of every service Arabella would take them aside and barrage them with constant reiterations of "I am certain it will be any day now!"

Lucas somewhat unnerved Lillian. Even through his stoic silence she was convinced that he watched her, and only her, while she sang in the church choir. What made her even more uncomfortable was that whenever she caught his gaze he quickly looked away, staring impassively ahead, as if he had never once glanced in her direction. But soon enough, she would feel his eyes upon her again. Unfortunately, Rosie had also begun to notice this, and after every service would wait until Arabella was not quite out of earshot to say in a false whisper "Couldn't keep his eyes off you again Lily."

The vast, glowing dance hall bustled with well-dressed and excited guests. A ball such as this had not been seen in South Hampton for near on 5 years. Ornate gold chandeliers hung from the marble ceiling and an orchestra played graceful refrains under an enormous antique tapestry that filled an entire wall.

Arabella and her parents stood to one side of the entryway welcoming guests as they arrived.

"So glad you could come." Arabella greeted Lillian and her sister with air-kisses and a quick saccharine smile before moving on to the next guest.

What happened to girlish, slouching, playful Arabella? Here she was polite, but her demeanour was cool, and her greeting was undeniably spoken 'down the nose'. Her dress was made of luxurious blue silk, the bodice adorned with pearl detailing. An exquisite diamond tiara sat amidst her blonde curls.

One of her many extravagant birthday presents no doubt, thought Lillian.

As they made their way over to greet Lieutenant and Mrs Stanley, their father was diverted by the shout of an old gentleman: "Gower, my good man, over here! You must put end to our debate!" and so they continued on without him.

The couple greeted them warmly. As they conversed, Lillian recognised a group of young ladies on the other side of the hall and asked, "Lieutenant Stanley, would you mind if I stole your wife away for a few moments to introduce her to some of my acquaintances?"

"Of course, but not for too long, Mrs Stanley has promised the first dance to me." The newlyweds smiled lovingly at each other and Lillian whisked her away before they decided they could not bear to be parted.

The ladies stood in a close circle, chatting, as Lillian approached them.

"Lily! Rosie!" Henrietta hugged her friends "Thank God you've come. If that stuck up little thing throws one more smug look our way I'm going to go over there and rip that tiara right off her chubby head! Please, stand here so I cannot see her." Henrietta strategically placed Lillian in Arabella's view.

Lillian laughed "Well I'm afraid this may not be the best time for introductions, but this is our friend, Mrs Elizabeth Stanley. She and her husband, Lieutenant Stanley, moved next door into Mothecombe. They have only been married a few weeks." She gestured to the girls. "Elizabeth, this is Henrietta, Genevieve and Camilla."

"Where were you married?" Camilla asked in her sophisticated drawl. "Is that your husband there? Oh doesn't he look handsome in his uniform!"

"Careful Elizabeth," Henrietta interrupted playfully, "Camilla has an eye for a man in uniform."

As they watched the young lieutenant he turned, giving them a clear view of his war injury. The girls gasped in an equal share of shock and sympathy.

"Oh my!" Exclaimed Camilla. "An injured war hero… Now, I am certain there is a wonderfully romantic tale behind this. You must tell us!"

And they all listened with starry eyes and well-timed sighs as Elizabeth Stanley told of the lovers' saga. They had met in the country three years ago while visiting relatives. His regiment had been stationed in the same small town and from the first moment that he asked her to dance she fell in love with the tall, charming officer. They were seldom parted during those two weeks and to soon he was leaving to fight in the Crimean War. He promised to marry her as soon as he returned. And so he left, and she waited. And waited… and waited. Two years passed without a word. Elizabeth would have given up hope long before that had she not received many letters during his first few weeks of deployment declaring his promise again and again. The army would tell her nothing as they were of no family relation. Everyone close told her to move on, but she refused. Then, just when the last strings of hope were slipping from her, Lieutenant Stanley walked right through her door and, without pausing, got down on one knee and asked her to marry him.

As Elizabeth found out, not long into his deployment to West Turkey Lieutenant Stanley's unit came under grenade attack. Most of his comrades were killed or gravely injured and he woke from a coma many weeks later to find his arm missing. He had been directly hit by a grenade and his burns were far too severe for him to return home for many more months after that. His intact hand was still unusable, and so he lay for a very long time in torture, knowing Elizabeth probably thought him dead, or heartless; imagining his beloved being taken by a man more whole than he. And so he vowed, when he could walk again, he would not lose one more moment through hesitation; He would walk into that room toward her without shame and propose, no matter the consequence.

As they all turned to look adoringly at the romantic hero in question, the orchestra quietened down and Lord Lindsay stepped onto the stage to address his guests.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for joining us in celebrating our Arabella's sixteenth birthday. Arabella has made a special birthday request that we open with her favourite dance 'Sir Roger de Coverley'. I hope you will forgive our break from the usual decorum and kindly appease our special birthday girl." He smiled serenely at his daughter. "Now gentleman, I know you will all be lining up to dance with the lady in question so can I ask you please, no pushing." There was a flurry of polite laughter. "Thank you and enjoy your evening."

Indeed there was a sudden group of eager young men around Arabella, but the one man she had expected was not to be seen. Arabella could not refuse them all and so, with an outstretched hand, the dance began.

"It seems those deportment classes were well paid for." Rosemary said as she watched Arabella wafting around the dance floor.

"I just hope they come to the end for which they were designed," said Henrietta. "Then perhaps Mr Boyd will finally propose and put us all out of our misery."

As other couples began to join the dance, Lieutenant Stanley approached them with a bow. "May I ask for my darling wife back now?" He asked with a smile and led Elizabeth Stanley onto the dance floor.

"Well where is he then?" Camilla searched around the room. "Surely this Mr Boyd was supposed to have the first dance? Don't tell me he would risk the current roof over his head by declining her majesty's expectations?"

"I really cannot see why she is so taken with him." Lillian stated pointedly. "I have never heard him speak a word to anyone."

"Oh I would not think so ill of him, Lily." They all turned to Genevieve as she spoke. "Mr Boyd and his father were at the Halifax's for dinner and we were seated together. Every time he spoke to me Arabella glared." She laughed. "He was pleasant enough, amusing too. I found no great fault in his conversation, even if he was a little affected. I do find though that he has a certain noble poise about him; I will even venture to say that if he were a little more lively and at ease in company he could be quite an eligible beau."

The girls made sounds of agreement, but Lillian was not convinced.

"Just because he lords over everyone he meets does not make him 'noble' Gen, nor does it make him an 'Eligible beau'... quite the opposite actually." Lillian stated vehemently. "And he seems such a bore! Honestly, how can he be a catch when he barely has a word to say? I suppose though, as long they are happy together then so am I..."

Rosemary's eyes grew wide "Lily..." she whispered urgently.

A throat was cleared behind her and Lillian turned to see the top of Mr Lucas Boyd's head.

"Miss Gower," He rose from a bow, his lucid blue eyes fastened to hers, offering his hand. "Would you do me the honour of joining me in this dance?"

Lucas had been passing by and had - quite by accident of course - heard their little conversation and decided to interrupt. _Purely to watch her squirm_, he told himself. It had nothing to do with the way her pale-gold dress clung, making his body ask for hers pressed against it and his lips want to trail along her bare shoulders; and it definitely had nothing to do with the fact that the flowers around her golden hair made her look like a glowing angel.

Rosemary stifled a snort beside her.

"Oh." Lillian gaped, nerves crawling up from her gut, along her throat, resting to tingle in her jaw. Why had he approached her? She glanced warily in Arabella's direction, who was craning her neck to watch them and, in doing so, completely forgot the next five steps, causing her to collide with the dancer beside her. This was all to the great amusement of the four young ladies watching.

Rosemary's elbow nudged Lillian's side, jolting her into speech.

"Of course, Mr Boyd, thank you." She curtsied.

He took Lillian gently by the hand and led her onto the floor. Their feet slipped effortlessly in sync, weaving and turning to the ebb and flow of the music. Anyone else watching would not be blamed for thinking this couple had danced together many times before, such was the union; but to Lily, Lucas was stiff and cold, and they danced in silence.

As they danced Lucas purposefully did not say a word, watching her awkward suffering with a barely concealed smirk.

_That will teach her to keep her gossiping lips shut_, he thought smugly.

Lillian could not decide if it was because he was self-conscious, or thought himself above conversation, but she was beginning to find the whole experience quite uncomfortable. The lack of banter did not impede him from watching her intently and this time when she caught his eye he did not turn away. She began to be very conscious of his hand touching hers, the blush rising to her cheeks and their bodies coming into contact when the steps necessitated it. All she could do was to avert her eyes and hold her breath until the dance ended. But, as these things usually happen, it was the longest piece of music the band would play all night.

_If his dancing is unsatisfactory_, she thought to herself, _the least I can do is attempt to enliven the conversation_.

"I have not yet heard you say a word about yourself Mr Boyd," She started carefully.

"Have I not?" He answered in a surprised tone.

"No, and light conversation between young people at gatherings such as these tend to be the norm. A way to make fun of an awkward and sometimes strained gathering, don't you think?"

He paused for so long that Lillian thought he was not going to answer. "You almost make it sound like a duty, Miss Gower."

"Well, we do what we must. I try to take happiness from every situation."

"But surely, Miss Gower, every situation cannot be dealt with in this way."

"Yes you are correct, Mr Boyd." She eyed him warily. "But I see you have cleverly deflected the conversation away from yourself once more."

He gave a small smile. "I apologise, I do not do it consciously. It seems to be a nervous reaction."

"A mechanism for self-preservation perhaps?"

He nodded once. "Perhaps."

Their hands parted as she turned to face another partner. Three steps around, a twist, her arms raised to meet his once more, and the dance ended.

Lucas bowed. "You did not strike me as the philosophical type, Miss Gower."

"Oh no, I do not consider myself at all… That is, I merely observe…" She flustered, stopping to bow, but before doing so caught a fleeting smirk on Lucas Boyd's lips.

"But what have you to be nervous about?" She asked hurriedly. "Here we are, surrounded by friends and family and you yourself are an accomplished young man in a room full of eligible young women."

"Ah Miss Gower," he chuckled, "You flatter me to think that any of these ladies would appreciate my… accomplishments." He lowered his voice conspiringly as she took his arm. "But I am afraid to tell you that some of them think me deathly boring."

Lillian blushed and turned away. Was this the reason for his original coldness? She was mortified to think that he had heard her speaking of him that way. Then she saw that he was not looking at her with disdain or dislike, but with an amused turn of his lips. _Well well,_ she thought, _our Mr Boyd enjoys some witty banter after all. How cleverly he disguises it, under the ruse of a silent, sullen architect. And I never once noticed…_

"Well perhaps, Mr Boyd," she answered steadily, "that these girls have not yet had the privilege of a thorough introduction."

"As you yourself have had, Miss Gower?"

Lillian had no chance to answer as they came upon her father and in the midst of a heated discussion with Mr Alistair Boyd.

"Ah my darling daughter," Her father breathed, already drunk but not yet in his advanced stage of bitter melancholy. _That will come soon enough_, she thought ashamedly, painfully aware of Lucas Boyd standing calmly at her side. "Perhaps yourself and Mr Boyd can help us clear up our disagreement. We have been talking about Jesus Christ's claims that he was the son of God."

_Oh please no, not here,_ Lillian thought, panic rising.

"Now tell us - because we have spent a great time discussing the matter - do you think he was a liar or a lunatic?"

The colour drained from Lillian's face and Lucas became aware that something was very wrong. He blinked a few times before asking, "Forgive me, Colonel Gower, I am not quite sure what you are referring to."

"You see Mr Boyd, my Lillian here cannot be wavered in her faith, and so I thought perhaps she could enlighten us to which it is. We have decided that Jesus either had to have been lying to everyone about who he was, or he was absolutely stark raving mad and believed what he was saying."

Lucas looked at Lillian, stunned. _Is she a Christian?_ He wondered. He knew she attended church, of course, but so did most young women of her age, who usually treated it as a social gathering. But it was different for Lillian, he now realised. A real, living, breathing faith. He supposed he should have guessed it by the way she sang those hymns, eyes closed, as if it was with all her heart, all her soul. Like him, it meant something.

He immediately turned to Colonel Gower and asked: "I take it you don't attend church regularly, Mr Gower."

"You won't see me set a foot in that place for as long as I live, if that answers your question."

Lucas nodded thoughtfully. "So then you have not had the great opportunity of hearing your daughter sing some of the most wonderful hymns I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing."

"No, but I can hear her at home whenever I like without walking into that sorry excuse for an-"

Realising that Lucas was attempting to save her from mortification Lillian interjected, "Are you a great fan of music Mr Boyd?" Lillian tried not to look too adoringly grateful.

"Not anymore than the next man, but my ears can tell a superb voice when they hear one. Do you have a favourite hymn?"

"Now do not get my daughter started on those hymns," Blustered Lillian's father.

Lucas ignored him, focussing his kind eyes on Lillian. "That song you were singing at your house a few weeks ago, who wrote it?"

She glanced from her father to Lucas, not wanting to admit that it was her own creation. "Oh, the writer is… unknown..."

"You'd think praising God was the only thing that keeps her going." Colonel Gower finally muttered bitterly.

Lillian finally answered him, angry at him for taking his bitterness out on her and her beliefs. "I only know what I am most thankful for." She hissed.

He continued on, ignoring Lillian. "Her nose always stuck in that bible, visiting with that pious group of Christians and their bible studies. Ruddy great load of nonsense if you ask me."

"Perhaps, Father, if you would acknowledge for once -"

"Codswallop!" He cut her off sharply. "Bunch of irrelevant words bound in an obsolete book! Get a grip on reality my girl, there is more to life than your God!"

"It's no use Colonel," Lucas's father chuckled, putting an arm around Colonel Gower to calm him. "These young people will have their way no matter what we say. My Lucas is exactly the same..."

"But now you have not answered our question!" Her father interrupted harshly, trying to take back control of the conversation.

Lucas took a deep breath and looked Colonel Gower in the eye before answering. "It is neither."

"I'm sorry?" Colonel Gower's eyes narrowed and blurred as he tried to understand what Lucas was saying.

"You asked if Jesus was a liar or a lunatic. The fact that his teachings are of such sound foundations and his claims were agreed by so many thousands to be true, proves that he was neither. It proves that he was the Lord he claimed to be."

But Lillian did not hear was not listening. Her face burned with frustration, anger drumming loudly in her ears.

"Excuse me." She mumbled and, as fast as she could without bringing further attention to herself, made her way out past the twirling partners, snide women and gauche tapestries, through the harshly lit dining room and the dark parlour, until finally she opened the ornate french doors and emerged into the cool night air.


	5. Burden

**_Chapter Five_**

_Burden_

Lillian closed her eyes and drew in two long breaths. Humiliation burned in her eyes and she willed herself not to cry. She was used to her father's beration about her faith. He was always at his worst when he was drinking. He simply had no strength left to believe and punished Lillian because she did.

Lillian would always measure another man's love for herself by her father's love for her mother. He had loved her more than his own life. When Cecelia Cirrone and Phillip Gower met she was a young catholic girl, just emigrated from France with her family. They fell in love quickly but their passion, as passion often does, had its consequences. When they found out she was with child they rushed to his very protestant parents for permission to marry. But Cecelia was poor, catholic and pregnant, and no matter how much they begged the Gower's would not give their consent and neither would the church. Their civil ceremony was a great embarrassment to the great Gower name. She was not accepted into the family and he was cut off from any inheritance. Colonel Gower still blamed religion for all of that, and tried to remind Lillian of it whenever he could.

Before her death, Cecelia had told Lillian about the time that God visited her in a dream. She was almost nine months pregnant with Lillian when, as she slept one night, Jesus came to her. He asked her to not judge God by the church and told her tenderly that He still loved her very much. He promised Cecelia that if she would make sure her children always knew of His love, He would bless her with two, faithful daughters.

Lillian's father never believed her, of course, and put it down to female hysterics. Cecelia though did as she promised and, apparently, so did God.

The parlour doors creaked open behind her and Lillian leapt back immediately, hiding in the shadow of a large marble pillar.

Lucas Boyd strode purposefully out onto the balcony. "Miss Gower?" He stopped at the top of the steps, looking out into the dark grounds, deciding where to search first.

As he began to descend Lillian could not let him search for her in vain, so hesitated before taking a small step from the gloom. "I am here, Mr Boyd."

Lucas turned and saw her move from the shadows, proud and hurt; her eyes red from crying but as livid and green as he had ever seen them. It was then that all the unfounded bitterness he had held toward her left him. Suddenly he felt for her; suddenly they were the same.

"Please do not feel– that is, I apologise for any...." He paused uncomfortably. "Are you well?"

"Yes." She replied shortly.

"Does it happen often?"

She looked at him sharply. "Excuse me?"

"It must be hard - without your mother - having to look after your brother and sister; and with your father the way he is..."

Defiance and pride reared in her instinctively and she glared at him ferociously.

"Mr Boyd, it may surprise you to know that before you showed up with all your well-meaning sympathies my family and I were doing quite well without anyone else's help or pity. But thank you for your concern." She headed back towards the doorway, hurrying away from this awful, pitying man.

"Please, Miss Gower, I apologise." He stepped towards her, struggling with the words. "I merely wanted to tell you..."

She faced him sharply and saw his expression shifting with some inner battle.

"Tell me what?" She said coolly.

He turned away, looking out over the gardens. "My father, he's the same you know, about... God. He will not listen to me, thinks I am placing my passions into something futile, but if he only knew...." He trailed off. "I wanted to say that I..." He straightened and looked at her squarely, without pity, his eyes conveying some joyful secret. "I too, feel your burden."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I have seen you in church; I have heard the way you praise Him." He took another step closer, "I can see a great passion for God inside you... Am I correct?"

The question caught her off-guard and she stepped back towards the darkness, pressing against the cold marble. "Yes."

"Well then... I know what it is to love God; to dedicate yourself to His message of wonderful hope, and yet, to have all those you love around you dismiss the idea completely" He ran his fingers over his lips. "Forgive me if I am being too presumptuous, Miss Gower. I just wanted to tell you that I too, know what it is to feel the burden, the responsibility, of their salvation."

Lillian was speechless. Her clenching insides understood the weight of his words as her mind tried to catch up. But before she could reply, the crunch of gravel underfoot approached them and she slipped once again behind the dark pillar.


	6. A Valiant Fight

**_Chapter Six_**

_A Valiant Fight_

"Good evening Sir," came the intruder's voice, as a broad shouldered young man with the swagger of one full of self-assurance, ascended the stairs and approached Lucas. "I do not believe we have met, I am Rupert Wagstaff."

Lucas gave a short nod. "Lucas Boyd."

"Ah, you are not from around here I understand; Scotland is it? Land of the brave?" He gestured dramatically with a wide grin.

"That is right."

"I have heard you are staying here with Lord and Lady Lindsay?"

Lucas nodded.

"You did not happen to see Miss Lillian Gower come out this way did you?"

Lucas stiffened and glanced imperceptibly toward where she was hiding, "I'm afraid not, no."

"Hmmm," Rupert furrowed his brows. "I could have sworn... No matter! Are you at all familiar with the Gower sisters?"

"We have been introduced, yes."

"I have known the family for many years. Their father has not handled his money well at all, if you know what I mean." Rupert gestured as if pouring a bottle down his throat. "So, as you can imagine, here we have two penniless girls... all their hopes for their family's survival hanging on a husband to take them."

Rupert's tone began to make Lucas uncomfortable, and he was wary of where this confession was heading.

"And which sister will have the best opportunity for finding this husband do you think?"

Lucas shook his head, very aware that the subject of their exchange was standing only a few feet away.

"Well, my friend," Rupert chuckled haughtily, his easy wide grin transforming into a leer. "That all depends on which sister is more talented in their... _oral_ abilities, if you understand my meaning..."

Lucas' jaw clenched, "Mr Wagstaff," He answered sternly, "I will ask you to stop right there."

"What is the matter Mr Boyd?" He laughed with scorn, "Do not be worried, I am certain that whoever is left over will be just as practiced as the other..."

Unfortunately Rupert Wagstaff did not get the chance to finish his sentence; for the hard, fast fist of Lucas Boyd rendered his jaw inoperable.

Lillian covered her mouth with her hands as Rupert shrieked, "How dare you!" and tried clumsily to connect his own fist with some extremity of his opponent's. Lucas merely ducked effortlessly out of the way and delivered another swift blow to Rupert's nose, this time sending Rupert crashing to the ground, hands to his bleeding face.

"You have marked yourself in this society now boy, let me tell you..." He gasped, scrambling to his feet.

"Pray, tell me how I have done that Mr Wagstaff?" He asked with innocent curiosity, his eyes cold and grey. "By defending the honour of two innocent ladies from a vulgar letch such as yourself?"

Rupert back away down the stairs, "You watch yourself Boyd." He said with one last, growling warning before he disappeared.

As soon as he was gone Lillian flew from her hiding place.

"My goodness, Mr Boyd! Are you alright?" She placed her hands on his shoulders, looking earnestly into his eyes, his face, checking for any damage.

"Fine, Miss Gower." He said huskily. His heart was pounding, but not from his recent violent encounter. He was gazing directly into the most breathtaking emerald eyes he had ever seen. His hand twitched, yearning to touch her soft skin.

Noticing her imprudence, Lillian took a step back. She looked out towards the path where Rupert had exited.

"He thinks because he is rich he can lay claim to anything he wants." She spat. "Nothing makes me more nauseous to think of..." She noticed Lucas flexing his right hand "Does it hurt? Can you move it?" She took it, inspecting for bruising or swelling.

As she turned his hand this way and that, thrilling trails of electricity made their tingling way up his arm. "It is a little stiff, but I have had worse." At Lillian's questioning look, he answered, "A young Scottish man soon learns how to handle himself in a bar fight, or any other sort of fight for that matter; whether he wants to or not..."

Lillian stopped at this revelation of him. Before tonight she would never have imagined the stiff, silent Mr Boyd in the middle of a Scottish bar brawl; Dirty, sweaty, sporting bruised eye and bleeding lip. The vision made her shiver, but she shook the thought away quickly.

"You may be able to move your hand now, but if we do not put a compress on it soonit will too swollen to do anything with."

"Had experience with injured hands have we Miss Gower?" He asked, cocking one eyebrow suggestively.

Lillian dropped his hand immediately, for fear he would notice her swaying. If he was going to make a habit of looking at her like that, she hoped there would be something around to hold on to.

"Unfortunately, yes. But that is not a story for such a time as this. Come, I know someone who may be able to help."


	7. The Kitchen

**_Chapter Seven_**

_The Kitchen_

The galley door swung open to the noisy clatter of pots and pans, and the chatter of kitchen staff preparing for the large party within. Delicious smells of sautéed garlic and onion, baking pies and simmering sauces wafted out to them. A large bosomed woman with frizzy orange hair stood in the doorway wiping her brow, looking at Lillian with surprise.

"Oh my Lord in heaven, if it isn't little Lily Gower! Come in my girl! To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Martha," Lillian began, smiling at the kind woman she had known as a child as they made their way into the inviting warmth. "We were hoping you could help us. You see, we need a compress for my friend, Mr Boyd's hand."

"Should I ask what for? No, no, better not I think." She winked, and showed them to a wooden table near the hearth. They took seats opposite each other as Martha called out to one of the maids to fetch a cold compress for Lucas.

"I remember Lily you was always runnin' round 'n gettin' under our feet when we was preparing our fancy dinners for the master. Now look at yer! Look how you've blossomed! You're as fine a woman as I ever saw. Just like her beautiful ma, ain't she Beth?" She yelled over her shoulder to Beth, an old woman with a face like a shrivelled sultana at a bench chopping carrots at frightening speed. Beth nodded without taking her eyes off the blurring knife.

"Well look at me sittin' here blabberin' on when we've got guests! Let me fetch you something to drink." She left, returning shortly after with two glasses of red wine and a cold compress. "It ain't the master's best, but it's all we had in here."

Martha wound the compress expertly around Lucas' hand. "My boys were always getting into scuffles when they were younger; you're lucky I've had practice eh? Now Lily, you're going to have to hold this down here until I get back." Martha hurried off into the busy kitchen.

Lillian felt awkward leaning over the table, her hand on Lucas' bandage, painfully conscious of their proximity.

Lucas cleared his throat. "So Miss Gower..." he began, eager to clear the tension between them.

"You may call me Lillian," She interrupted, "or Lily, if you like. I think defending my honour deserves at least that privilege, Mr Boyd." She averted her eyes, blushing.

"Very well... Lily, then you may call me Lucas."

"Lucas..." A warmth went through her at the feel of his name on her lips. She smiled. "You were saying?"

"Oh, yes." He shook his head minutely, tearing away his gaze that had become fixed on her smiling lips. "I was merely going to enquire as to how long you have known the Lindsays."

"Oh, well my father's friendship with them preceded my birth... so my whole life really."

He shook his head slowly. "You have really had to endure Arabella for that long?"

Lillian laughed. "I suppose she has been like a younger sister to me; albeit a spoilt, much richer, younger sister..." Lucas smiled. "She has changed recently though. I'm worried her mother is trying to make her grow up too fast. Just a few months ago she was still an endearing child, but now..."

"I have only met her once before this, when she was a small child, so I cannot say if she has changed; but I would not worry too much. The child shines through often enough." He said with a glint in his eye.

Lillian did not know if it was the red wine, the boisterous atmosphere of the kitchen or the warm fire; but after a time her uneasiness was forgotten; a content glow settling around her. Quite without meaning to, and against her initial judgments, she fell into an easy, comfortable banter with the man sitting opposite.

In this delicious haze she began to notice things about him that she had not cared to before; the look on his face when she spoke, like he was carefully considering every word; the intensity of his icy blue eyes as they gazed unflinchingly into hers; the way his smile shined like a ray of sun peeking through an overcast sky, always surprising her with its beauty; and how a man, who had at first seemed to her so apathetic and reserved, was suddenly taking her breath away with his warmth and gentleness.

Lucas in turn marvelled at his proximity to this woman. He had outright avoided all contact with the fairer sex ever since... his last tragic encounter. He had first thought her to be just like the rest of them, frivolous and vain, but even then there was something inexplicable about her that had pulled him in. She was very pretty of course, but it was something else; some depth and integrity that was lacking in the others.

Martha watched them, loath to interrupt the romance blossoming right before her eyes, but she was too busy to play cupid that evening and so shooed them out of the kitchen before dinner began.


	8. A Familiar Shame

**_Chapter Eight_**

_A Familiar Shame_

They stood in the darkened hallway, somewhere between the comforting haze of the kitchen and the bright, callous reality in the dining hall that awaited them; neither wanting to fracture the fragile moment.

Lillian finally spoke up. "We should enter through different doorways."

Lucas nodded. "Yes."

"There is a room beyond that door on the left that leads to the dining hall. I will enter from the ballroom." She instructed.

"We could just walk in together... Save all this secrecy." He said with that now familiar glint.

"Oh really? Yes, well I am sure you would love to see how that turns out. I, on the other hand, have no urge watch our little Arabella throw a tantrum in front of all our guests; nor do I wish to withstand the scrutiny and scandalous gossip that would occur afterwards. So I will take my leave of you, Mr Boyd. Thank you for your company tonight." Lillian bowed. "I do not think I have ever met a man as gallant yourself."

"And I, Lillian, have never met a fine lady so deserving." He bowed, taking her hand and planting his warm lips to it. "It has been a pleasure."

The heat from his lips travelled from her kissed hand, growing into a searing burn by the time it reached her face, filling her cheeks with a pink glow.

Lillian turned and walked, or rather floated, into the dining room. She sat beside her sister, who was chatting about the latest quirky fashions from London to a well-informed Camilla.

As her sister spoke, Lillian tried discretely to see where Lucas was sitting. He sat beside two empty seats at the head of the long dining table opposite. Lillian realised that these seats were reserved for Lady Lindsay and Arabella. _A seat of honour indeed_, she thought with an unexpected stab of jealousy.

Lucas looked up and met her gaze with a smile and nod. Lillian could not help the idiotic grin that spread across her face.

"What are you so pleased about?" Rosemary asked quizzically.

"Nothing," Lillian replied, bashfully lowering her gaze.

Rosemary followed her line of sight to a smiling Lucas Boyd. It was not hard to put two and two together.

"_Oh_." Her eyes grew wide with realisation. "What exactly were you doing while you were missing Lily?" She whispered.

"Nothing..." Lillian began, but stopped under her sister's incredulous stare. "All right, Rosie. I will tell you later - not here."

She tried very hard not to look in Lucas Boyd's direction, but still could not stop a small grin from escaping when her eyes misbehaved and glanced over at him.

The crowd quietened and then stood as the host and his mother were announced to the room. They made their way to their seats at the left end of the table opposite. Next came Lady Lindsay, then Arabella, who was met with celebratory clapping and hoorahs until she was seated.

As the soup and wine were served, Lillian's father, Colonel Gower, stood precariously and raised his glass.

"To our host and his beautiful daughter. May their health be as good as the favour they bestow upon their poorest friends!"

A few drunken guffaws came from some of the older, drunker, gentlemen in the room but most followed with awkward silence. Until finally Lord Lindsay stood with a hearty, "Here, here!" and all guests followed suit. The toasts to health continued as Colonel Gower concentrated very hard on making it back onto his chair.

Next Lord Lindsay carved the meats and they were served. It was not long into the first course before Lillian's contentment was brought unceremoniously to ground as Colonel Gower began griping loudly about the quality of the gravy.

"What do they call this? Stewed pig's entrails? I have been served better gruel than this in the London Docks!" He slammed his beer mug down hard on the table, making everyone jump around him, and took a long, messy swig of his ale. Lillian glanced at the table opposite, Arabella and Lady Lindsay had their heads bowed in spiteful whispers, but Lucas was still, watching carefully.

"Father, please do not be rude." Lillian murmured urgently.

"Rude! Do you know what is rude daughter? Being served this muck!" He swooned unsteadily and pointed at the poor maid nearest to him. "You, girl! Did you have anything to do with this?" He asked harshly, appointing to the offending liquid. She shook her head, frightened. Colonel Gower grabbed at her wrist and missed, tumbling off his chair and onto the floor.

Lillian bent down instantly, attempting unsuccessfully to pick her father up. Someone was suddenly beside her, hand on her arm.

It was Lucas.

"I have him Lillian." He said, grasping his strong arms around her father's shoulders.

Lillian stood as Lieutenant Stanley joined Lucas on the other side. She was suddenly aware of all eyes in the room on her and this drunken spectacle. Feeling very small and humiliated, she wished a great hole would open up in the ground and swallow her.

With a lot of trouble and swearing Lucas and Lieutenant Stanley finally hoisted him up.

"Come now man, you've done quite enough for one night, why don't we take you home." Lieutenant Stanley encouraged.

"I will not! I don't need this insulting... I shall go home of my own accord..." Colonel Gower finished with inebriated and erratic mumblings.

"Lillian," Lucas turned to her and in his eyes, instead of the disgust and contempt she expected to see, there was only immense kindness and compassion held there. "I will send for the coach and accompany your father home." He said in a serious, business like tone.

She began to object. "N-no, I should be with him -"

He shook his head, pressing on. "You and your sister should stay with Arabella and enjoy yourselves. Allow me to take care of him."

Did he not know that staying here after this debacle, with all the smirks and glares, would be intolerable for her? Not to mention the thought of him stuck in a coach with her barely conscious father, helping him into the house, into bed?

She straightened up and tried to say as steadily as possible, "Mr Boyd, while I appreciate your very kind offer, it is not your responsibility to -"

But he cut her off again. "I will not hear your objections Miss Gower. I am very much determined. I will send the coach back again for you when I return. We shall no doubt meet again this night." And with that, he stumbled along with her father out into the night.

Of course, Lillian did not continue to enjoy the evening. No matter how often Rosemary pleaded she did not dance, but instead sat alone stewing and mulling over her own bitter humiliation and embarrassment, cursing Lucas Boyd and the day he took pity on her.

Then she saw him, framed in the dark doorway, a look of compassion upon his face. Her insides twisted with contempt to think he was _pitying _her. She felt her blood rising with the familiar shame, and it made her all the more incensed for it.

He approached her, a calm smile on his face. _Smug, presumptuous bastard_. She thought, her rage blinding her.

When he reached her he began, "Your father is fine Lillian-"

"I need neither your help nor your pity, Mr Boyd." She cut him off coldly. "Good night."

She stormed past him to Rosemary, who turned, and in seeing Mr Boyd began to thank him, but stopped as Lillian clutched her arm firmly.

"We are leaving." Lillian stated, shaking with anger.

Rosemary's eyes widened in alarm. "What's wrong Lily?"

"Nothing. We are leaving." She repeated and, without another look in Lucas' direction, walked towards the exit.

Rosemary glanced back to Lucas, who stood gazing after Lillian, a stunned look upon his face. With an exasperated sigh, she followed her sister out of the ballroom.

Lucas remained where he was standing for some time, too shocked by Lillian's reaction to form any coherent thought. But there was one poisonous chant that ran through his mind again and again.

_And you thought she was different..._


	9. A Concealed Motive

**_Chapter Nine_**

_A Concealed Motive_

Days passed by and, as Lillian's pride faded, the horrible guilt from her treatment of Lucas pulsed and weighed a little heavier each day. As her mind cleared she also remembered warmly their hidden moments together, which in turn made her behaviour all the more cringe inducing.

As Rosemary and Lillian sat in the drawing room one morning, Lillian broached the topic carefully.

"Rosie..." she began, pausing from her chalk drawing to turn to her sister

"Hmmm?" Rosemary murmured, not looking up from her embroidery.

"I was wondering if you would like to visit Arabella today... Perhaps to see how everything went... after we left the party."

"You mean after you so unceremoniously removed me from the party?" She said, still not looking up.

Lillian sighed. "Yes."

"I presume then, that the reason you want to visit is not really to see Arabella?"

"And why would you presume that?"

"Because, Lillian Marie," Rosemary huffed, throwing her embroidery down beside her, "You have not yet told me of your little tryst with Lucas Boyd, and I believe that I have shown incredible patience with you for it. Do not look at me like that! I know you were gone for almost an hour before dinner and I know who you were with. You have not kept your promise." She eyed her indignantly.

Lillian sighed dramatically "Fine, little sister, but I do not see why you make such a big deal out of it." When it looked like Rosemary was about to throw the closest heavy object at her Lillian said, "I am sorry... I suppose, for a little while, I was trying to pretend it did not happen."

Lillian recounted to her sister, somewhat reluctantly, the events of that tumultuous evening; from Lucas Boyd's silently intense dance to their last abrupt goodbye.

When she was done Rosemary gasped "Oh Lily, that poor man! After what he did for us!" She shook her head as Lillian ashamedly looked out across the lawn. "If I agree to visit, and he is home, will you apologise?" She asked.

"I suppose if there is an opportunity... But in Arabella's home I do not see how-"

"But there will be an opportunity; I will make sure of it." Rosemary said her lips set in a determined line. When Lillian looked at her questioningly she took her hand and said, "Lily I just cannot bear for him to have _that _as his last image of you, because it is just not true. You are not cold or uncaring or callous. You are my beautiful, strong, devoted, irreplaceable sister; and I will not have him thinking otherwise."

And so they made their way to Havershire Park on foot, with Lillian lagging behind more and more with each mile that brought them closer, until finally a sharp reprimand from Rosemary forced her to quicken her pace.

When they arrived Arabella burst into the entry way before the servant could even show them to the drawing room.

"Oh Lillian! Rosemary! The most terrible thing has happened to Lucas!" Arabella screeched, a panicked look on her face.

"What is it? What has happened?" The sisters' asked at once.

Arabella spoke in a harsh whisper. "Lucas was... _attacked_."

The blood drained from Lillian's face. _My last goodbye...Rosemary may have been closer to the truth than she realised._

Rosemary gasped, and found her voice before Lillian could. "Attacked? By whom?"

"He says he does not know... It was in the gardens, he was taking a walk to clear his mind and that is when they cornered him. He said it was too dark to make them out... but there were three of them."

Lillian had a very firm hunch who the assailants may have been.

Rosemary gasped again. "Three? Well is he all right? May we see him?"

Arabella led them to Lucas' room and knocked softly. Opening the door, she tiptoed carefully across the room and whispered "Lucas, I hope you don't mind, but Rosemary and Lillian wanted to pay you a visit."

Lucas was sitting up in bed, his face a mottled canvass of yellow, purple and black and Lillian could not help the painful stab of guilt that ran through her. "For God's sake Arabella, speak up. I'm not dying." He said sourly.

"Well mother does not think you are taking this as seriously as you ought." Arabella huffed. "She saw you trying to _get out of bed_ Lucas; and you know the doctor has strictly ordered-."

"Forgive me for attempting to see if the world really had stopped revolving while I was in here."

"Bella! Where are you darling?" Lady Lindsay's voice rang out down the hallway.

"Coming Mama!" She turned to the sisters. "I will leave you to entertain Lucas. He has not had much company these few days, with mother and I running all over the place looking after him." She shot a chastising look at Lucas before leaving the room.

"Thank you for your kind visit ladies," He snuck a timid look at Lillian, gauging her countenance. "I hope you are faring better than I." Lucas tried to smile but in the effort ended with more of a grimace.

"Are your injuries grave? Will you recover?" Rosemary whisper with a horrified stare.

"Physically, yes; but I am afraid my ego may take a while longer... My aunt has all but chained me to the bed." He said sheepishly. "I think she is actually attempting to crystallise my humiliation further."

Lillian stepped forward, overcome with guilt. "Mr Boyd, please, let me apologise-" She began, but Lucas slowly held up a shaky hand.

"Lillian, the only ones at fault here are those men who think they have claim to things far more precious than they deserve." He said quietly.

Rosemary turned her head to look at Lillian, whose cheeks had flushed pink, then to Lucas, whose eyes were fixed on Lillian's, and it struck her that their gazes held no animosity, as she had expected, but something far more remarkable. It was at that moment that Rosemary, trying not to twitch with excitement over her romantic discovery, announced that she could hear Arabella calling her and quickly exited the room.

Lillian walked to the window and gazed out at the vast gardens, to the maze, the sculptured hedges, the opulent water fountain, and with a quick prayer took in a deep breath and swallowed her pride.

"Lucas, I behaved appallingly. When the _least _I could have done was give you my gratitude, I did the complete opposite. I am sorry. I was just so...." Lillian could feel the heat throbbing in her face and her eyes prickling, but she did not stop, "_ashamed _that you saw him – us – like that. Please forgive me."

And when she turned there was _that look_ again, no rejection or scorn; nothing but gentleness and compassion.

"Lillian, you are forgiven. There is nothing to forgive. I think you forget that I grew up in Scotland, Land of the Whiskey Bottle..." he gave a bark, grimacing in pain.

"May I venture to ask how your father is getting on?"

"Oh... He is well thank you. I think it is for the best that he did not remember the end to that night. He merely remarked that he must have slept the whole way home in the coach because he does not know how he got to bed! He is travelling to London this afternoon."

"London? Does he often have business there?"

"Um," Lillian did not know how to reply honestly. "He visits my Uncle." Lucas began to inquire once again. "Please, do not ask more of me." She fixed her miserable gaze to the floor. They were silent for a while as Lillian turned back to her view.

"It was Rupert wasn't it." She finally asked, still facing the window. It was an attempt to change the subject, but she also wanted her suspicions confirmed.

"His ego was obviously damaged far more than I realised. Unfortunately for me, retribution was not something he could accomplish on his own."

"Coward." Lillian seethed through her teeth. "I suppose he will go unpunished. Unfortunately that is the way of things. The rich and powerful step on the less fortunate; and we are powerless to change anything."

"I must tell you Miss Gower - although I risk bringing your derision upon myself once more - that it seems you deal with a lot more than other young women your age; a lot more than you should. When was the last time felt yourself young and free of your responsibilities?"

Lillian felt that ugly, prideful dragon rear its head once again. _Who is he to tell me about my responsibilities?_ But his look, his tone of voice... this time she forced the smoking beast to rest. She knew Lucas held no belittling motive.

"They need me." She said quietly.

Lucas nodded. "Just be certain you are not losing your own life in the process."

"'Whosoever shall seek to save his life shall lose it; and whosoever shall lose his life shall preserve it.'" Lillian murmured quietly.

"Luke 17:33." She looked at him, surprised at his reply. "I have often wondered over those words..."

"You know this verse?"

"I do."

Lillian returned her gaze outside, thinking for some time.

"Perhaps when you are better Mr Boyd, you would do me the honour of being my guest at the weekly Bible study my friends and I have."

"Please, Lily, call me Lucas." His eyes were pleading. "The honour would be mine."

The door burst open and in walked a suspicious looking Arabella with an apologetic Rosemary hurrying in after her.

"Entertained quite enough now are we Lucas?" Arabella asked, looking pointedly at Lillian.

"Yes actually, the visit has left me feeling quite refreshed, thank you Arabella."

"Well Mama says we must be careful as any more visiting may be arduous to you."

"It is ok Arabella," Lillian said as she reached for her bonnet and took her sister by the arm. "Rosemary and I were just leaving. We would not want to be the cause of any further injury to Mr Boyd." She smiled at him warmly, much to the chagrin of Arabella.

"Good day to you both, I dearly hope that the next time we meet Lucas, you will be much recovered."

"As do I Lily, thank you for your kind visit."

Rosemary lifted her eyebrows to Lillian as they left the room. _Lily?_

As they left Arabella warned Lillian and Rosemary that any further visits may be unwise if they wished Lucas to recover quickly.

"Oh yes, I am sure Mr Boyd's health is her foremost motive for keeping us away." Rosemary said rolling her eyes.

Lillian whistled heartily as they walked home in the softening afternoon light. The impending meeting had lifted her spirits, and none of Arabella's determined snubbing could dishearten her.


	10. One Thing Have I Desired

**_Chapter Ten_**

_One Thing Have I Desired - Psalm 27:4_

As Lillian sat in Matthew Biggs poky parlour, surrounded by her closest brothers and sisters in Christ, she wondered anxiously if perhaps she had given Lucas the incorrect address, or perhaps he had changed his mind about seeing her, perhaps he had been humouring her.

But then in the midst of her anxieties, Lucas Boyd entered the room, black eyed and swollen lipped, but there all the same. His eyes sought her out and when they found her he smiled, a smile that sent searing shivers through her body.

Matthew Biggs piggy eyes widened at Lucas' beaten appearance "Good Lord my man! What on earth has happened to you?" He exclaimed, pudgy cheeks wobbling.

"Short-sighted." Lucas replied gesturing towards his eyes with his very best poker face, "Large trees do not agree with me."

And while her friends puzzled over his response, Lucas shot Lillian a quick smirk. She introduced him around the room, a little proud of her new friend, as if showing a group of children her shiny new toy or pretty ribbon. _Childish girl_, she told herself. Even in his injured state, Lucas looked fine in his elegant coat and new hat and as he removed them Lillian noticed for the first time the broad curve of Lucas' chest and strong muscular back.

"Shall we begin?" Lillian said, forcing her attention away from him. They all sat and Matthew asked if anyone had a Bible verse or a story about how God had spoken to them that week they would like to share.

"If it is all right," Lucas spoke up, surprising Lillian with his forthrightness, "I would like to share a poem I found during the week. It may be a little provocative but I would interested in your responses."

Lillian was surprised. Lucas seemed content, at ease, so different from how she had seen him before. What had changed? She wondered. Was it that he was more comfortable in these surroundings or was she seeing him more clearly now?

He pulled a parchment from his Bible and began to read.

_**Nothing**_

_After a battle lasting many ages,_

_The Devil won,_

_And he said to God_

_(who had been his Maker):_

_"Lord,_

_We are about to witness the unmaking of Creation_

_By my hand._

_I would not wish you to think me cruel, _

_So I beg you, take three things_

_From this world before I destroy it._

_Three things, and then the rest will be wiped away." _

_God thought for a little time._

_And at last He said:_

_"No, there is nothing."_

_The Devil was surprised._

_"Not even you, Lord?" he said._

_And God said:_

_"No. Not even me." _

_-- From Memories of the World's End_

_Author unknown_

As Lucas read - and because here she was allowed to stare uninterrupted – she took in his eyes: so expressive as they moved across the page, holding in them a concealed sorrow not only just now, but as he did always, even when he smiled. Her gaze moved to his lips, declaring every syllable, it was as if every consonant was a kiss delicately placed upon her ear. Suddenly the image leapt to her mind of his hot breath and lips trailing down from her ear to the soft curve of her throat... the whisper of a lusty moan moved through her. It was at this moment that she realised she wanted Lucas more than she had wanted any other man before. No other had ever produced this yearning, as if a rope had attached itself to her abdomen, she felt a physical pulling toward him.

As the poem ended his eyes left the page and for a brief moment met hers - a look that was so blissfully her own it flooded her chest with warmth - then it was gone, the evocative gaze landing on another girl. A stab of irrational jealousy pierced her heart.

"Well it is an accomplished poem I am sure, but do you not think it a little blasphemous?" Matthew Biggs offered. "It is unbiblical in its suggestion that the devil could possibly defeat the Creator of the universe."

"Yes of course it is," Lucas countered, "but, with all due respect, you are missing the point. The poem's beauty is in the last climactic paragraph, in the Lord's reply. Does it not suggest that the Creator would have no desire to go on living, if it meant he had to do so without his own creation?"

A thoughtful silence fell over the room, but Lillian did not notice. She was finding it hard to follow the discussion. She had never felt such desire before. She began to feel heat rising to her face and she shifted uncomfortably, sure that the others in the room could detect her screamingly wicked thoughts.

"Well whatever the intended sentiment, it remains untheological. I suppose -- are you feeling ok Miss Gower?" Matthew Biggs broke through her haze. "You look quite flushed."

His observation caused her to blush even more. "I am quite well thank you, Mr Biggs... Er perhaps it is just a little stuffy in here. Please, let me sit by an open window."

She sat in the light autumn breeze, letting it clear her thoughts, and chastised herself for being such an unspeakable tart. She thought of the different ways in which she could discipline herself: perhaps over-exposure was necessary, desensitise herself to the effect he had over her; maybe she should lock herself in her bedroom for a week, fasting and interrupting the prayerful monotony only by reading God's word; Perhaps she should never see him again... but, no... Was denial really necessary? She continued in this reverie until suddenly Lucas was before her, thanking her for the invitation and bowing to leave.

"Before I go Miss Gower, I must give you an invitation." He pulled a piece of paper from his waist-coat and handed it to her. "My cousin wishes yourself and Rosemary to join us for a games night. It should be quite fun." His eyes shone with anticipation and he leant in to murmur softly, "a break from that weight you carry around perhaps?" He rose, a teasing look in his eyes. "I do hope you can make it."


	11. Seek and You Shall Find

**_Chapter Eleven_**

_Seek, and you shall Find – Matthew 7:7_

"You win again!" Exclaimed Lucas, slapping his cards on the table, as Arabella let out a frustrated groan. "There must be some secret to it that you are keeping from me."

Lucas, Lillian, Rosemary and Arabella sat around a card table aglow with candlelight.

"Yes there is a secret, Mr Boyd." Lillian answered with a sly grin. "Shall I tell you?"

The three glasses of wine Arabella had practically forced down Lillian's throat made her bold and playful. The wine, the candlelight, the fire roaring close by and the howling almost-winter wind rattling at the windows gave Lillian a cocooned, sheltered feeling, like nothing this night could harm her. Her cheeks felt hot and she knew she had drunk too much already, but still Arabella filled her glass, and still Lillian drank. Why did she not stop or politely decline? Was it because she wanted to let her guard down, let her inhibitions go, now that Lucas was here?

Lucas nodded, interested in this new Lillian, a side he had not seen before. She was... having fun. It sounded unnatural putting it that way, but he realised it was true. She was always worrying too much about others to enjoy herself; the last time he had seen her momentarily let her guard down like this had been in a similar situation: the fire, the wine, their proximity.

Lucas locked with Lillian's jade-green eyes as she leant in and said in a hushed voice: "The secret to Whist is... to secure a partner who actually knows how to play the wretched game!" Lillian laughed. "I really have barely any idea of what I am doing."

"Perhaps she is aided by some hidden cards?" Arabella shot them a frosty look. She had been put out when the unfortunate looking Gerard twins had declined to play and Lucas had instead asked the Gower sisters, who were decidedly more entertaining and pleasing to the eye. Now that they had won both games and her prized cousin was paying much more heed to them than herself, the idea had somewhat lost its lustre.

Lillian ignored the comment. "Rosie is an astute observer, which is why she beats me at every game we know."

"I do not, Lily" Rosemary protested.

"You do." Insisted Lillian. "You have always been much cleverer than me."

"I am bored of this." Arabella stood abruptly, turning to interrupt a raucous game of charades in the other corner. "We need to do something else... something more... exciting."

Rosemary leant in as Arabella's back was turned, whispering to her sister, "Do you think a game of dolls would suffice?"

"Shhh!" Lillian stifled a giggle.

Rosemary continued, "Hardly a year has passed since she last played; and I know that she still sleeps with them..."

This time Lillian had trouble stifling her laugh and it came out in a short burst as she covered her mouth; but it was too late: Arabella was looking at her with narrowed eyes.

"How about hide and seek?" Suggested Genevieve.

"Genevieve it is freezing outside!" Lillian objected.

"We could play it inside the house?" Another suggested.

But Arabella's face was frozen in joyful contemplation. "No," She said, snapping out of her daydream. "Hide and seek is perfect! Outside."

Lillian groaned inwardly as Rosemary rolled her eyes. _Trust Arabella to expect everyone to leap at such a ridiculous proposal._ And yet, everyone obediently began to move outside. Arabella waited at the parlour doors, looking pointedly at Lucas.

"I suppose it would be rude to decline." Lucas said loudly, for Arabella's benefit. "Although I do find it unlikely that men of my age are usually found to be participating in such things. Just keep this one to yourself, eh Arabella?"

As he moved through the doors Arabella took his arm. "Your secret is safe with me!" She giggled adoringly then said in a low voice, "We must find a hiding place to fool everyone Lucas, and I think I know just the place!"

_Ah,_ Lillian thought, understanding now the plan Arabella was hatching when she suggested the game. The picture of the two of them alone and secluded together in the dark came to her mind and, rather than the usual indulgent humour, for the first time Lillian felt a discomfort towards Arabella's designs after Lucas.

The suggestion was to draw straws, but instead Arabella insisted upon poor short-sighted Louisa Gerard as the seeker.

"Me?" She squeaked, squinting morosely into the foggy gloom beyond.

"Yes, you." Arabella answered impatiently, before turning to the party. "Now, no one is allowed to hide beyond the maze or orchard. Do not look so frightened Louisa!" She chastised. "I'm giving them boundaries for your benefit." When Louisa continued to gawk at her in a terrified manner Arabella huffed, "Fine, if it gives you any comfort you may choose a seeking companion... but you have to hold hands... and may not separate." She concluded smugly.

"What about yourself Arabella?" Rosemary suggested purposefully, fully anticipating the way Arabella then clung tighter to Lucas' arm and answered whiningly:

"But I want to hiiiiide!"

"Fine," Rosemary said, moving to Louisa's side and taking her hand, "I will help you Louisa."

"Jolly good! Let's begin!" Arabella announced cheerily.

"We will count down from 20, all right everyone? Ready... settee... GO!" Yelled Rosemary, turning with Louisa as they covered their eyes and began counting down in unison.

As soon as the counting began, everyone scattered, and Lillian was driven by some unnamed force, stronger than pride or common sense, to follow Arabella and Lucas into the dark expanse of the orchard. She furtively kept to the shadows, matching their crunching steps with her own so as not to be noticed.

Arabella led Lucas into a thick dark corner of forest, far beyond her own ordained boundaries; far beyond where anyone else would be hiding.

Lillian's pursual continued for some time and, as the wood grew thicker, and her imagination grew wilder, she realised she could no longer hear any crunching footsteps to match to her own. She stood motionless, listening hard, hearing nothing but her own inner workings. For all she could tell, she was utterly alone.

A shrill cry, piercing and raw, ringing out through the night startled her and she froze, a chill settling into her core.

_An animal or hawk; nothing more,_ she told herself.

Even so, the darkness around her seemed more complete and her breath a denser cloud in the dead frozen air. She moved to the nearest tree, hugging her back to the solid trunk, an anchor giving her enough security and reason to think of what to do next.

_Stupid girl, _she thought, _just return the way you came and pretend this never happened._

Now if she could just retrace her steps, perhaps she could see the lights of the patio and then--

Lillian's thoughts came to a crashing halt as she realised the breaths she could hear were not only her own. Someone was very close by: their footsteps moving slowly toward her, like a hunter stalking its prey.

She opened her mouth to shout for Lucas, Arabella – anyone – for help, but a hand clamped firmly over her lips and strong arms yanked her around to the darkest side of the tree, pinning her there against it.

Lillian's heart pounded in her ears, panic overtaking her senses as she struggled to free herself from her attacker's grip. His body pressed hard against hers, one arm across her waist and one over her mouth, disallowing any movement. Her breaths came out through her nostrils in short sharp gusts. She knew was breathing too quickly, her eyelids began to flutter, but before she could faint she screamed through that clamped hand as loud as she could. But it was useless... it came out no more than a whimper and no one would here her out here. Her attacker's breath tickled the downy curves of her ear as he leant in to whisper... Lillian did the best she could to block out his voice and whatever depraved, vile things he was going to describe doing to her...

"Lillian, it's ok!" He whispered urgently, "It's me, Lucas! Someone is coming."

Lucas removed his hand from Lillian's mouth as she turned, berating him in a harsh whisper, "What on earth do you think you are doing frightening me like that?!"

"Shhhh! I'm sorry Lily, I'm hiding from Arabella."

They both heard a second set of footsteps approaching them. Then a high voice rang out through the silent wood.

"Hellooooo? Anyone there?" Arabella called, peering through the murky shadows, searching for her quarry. "Lucas?"

Lillian could feel Lucas' heat through her dress; hear his shirt rustle against her bodice. Their breaths came out rapidly; hers from the shock, his from escaping. Lucas turned his face to look down upon her with a mischievous smile and raised a finger to his lips. His eyes held hers like vices, only the smallest movement and his lips would be upon hers. He dropped his finger, brushing a wayward curl out of Lillian's flushed face and let it trail softly down her cheek to her jaw. A shiver ran through Lillian. She was alone in the woods, with the object of her uncontrollable desires, an 'unknown' stalker trying to spring them. Was this fantasy or reality? She wondered, convinced it must be too unlikely to be true; but she could not ignore the exhilaration, the danger, coursing through her veins, making her feel more alive than ever before.

Lucas lowered his face toward hers as she tilted her chin up to meet his lips...

Suddenly a rush of movement in the bushes beside them startled the pair.

"Gotcha!" a triumphant voice yelled.

Another voice, further away, let out a yelp of surprise and then burst into laughter.

"What are you doing all the way out here?" Arabella asked accusingly. "This is out of bounds!"

"I could ask you the same question?" The caught person answered.

Lillian had to cover her mouth with her hand to stop laughing herself at their close call. Lucas looked at her with a glint in his eye and, taking her by the hand, began to run.

Trees passed them swiftly; one by one she ducked and dodged, lifting her dress with her free hand to go faster. Lillian had no idea where Lucas was leading her, nor did she know if Arabella was still pursuing them, but she was so overcome by the thrill of the moment that she let out a wild abandoned laugh. Lucas, who had never heard her so free, could not help but join in and when they came to a clearing, huffing and giggling and red-faced, they were sure someone must have heard and was pursuing them close behind. But as they stood still, listening for the telling sound of rustling leaves, they heard nothing.

"We are free at last!" Exclaimed Lucas. The bright full moon, filtering through the branches above, threw its light upon his delighted face; his hair was in disarray from running and was falling into his eyes; but Lillian thought he had never looked so beautiful.

"From the clutches of Arabella!" Lillian laughed as Lucas took her hand, curling his fingers through hers. "Now why would you – brave, fighting man that you are - be scared away by a young girl like Arabella?" She looked at him wryly.

"Because," he answered, emitting a small gasp from Lillian as he took her waist with his other arm and pulled her closer, "Arabella wants something from me that she cannot have."

"And what would that be, Mr Boyd?" Lillian asked, quickly losing all comprehension as Lucas pressed her against him, letting go of her hand and raising it to sweep his fingers from her ear down to her shoulder.

Lucas did not answer, instead took in Lillian's face, her wine-stained lips, her shaky breaths, and pondered for a moment on the prudency of his actions. It was not a long hesitation.

"My heart." He answered and, taking her exquisite face in his hands he kissed her softly, slowly, and with more passion than he had ever known.


	12. So That I May Know You

**_Chapter Twelve_**

_So That I May Know You – Exodus 33:13_

Lillian and Lucas wandered idly through the gardens, speckled with moonlight, toward the house; in no hurry to be back or to be forced to hide their intimacy for appearance' sake. Lucas spoke of his childhood, of his home town, of Scotland; Lillian was fascinated by his vivid descriptions of its wild moors and desolate crags. As Lucas spoke, he occasionally would reach for Lillian's hand or softly brush her cheek with a long gaze that made her blush fiercely. Spurred on by her interest, Lucas began to recite a poem: a tale of yearning and nostalgia; an ode to his distant home.

**_To Exiles_**

_Are you not weary in your distant places,  
Far, far from Scotland of the mist and storm,  
In drowsy airs, the sun-smite on your faces,  
The days so long and warm?  
When all around you lie the strange fields sleeping,  
The dreary woods where no fond memories roam,  
Do not your sad hearts over seas come leaping  
To the highlands and the lowlands of your Home?_

_Wild cries the Winter, loud through all our valleys  
The midnights roar, the grey noons echo back;  
About the scalloped coasts the eager galleys  
Beat for kind harbours from horizons black:  
We tread the miry roads, the rain-drenched heather,  
We are the men, we battle, we endure!  
God's pity for you people in your weather  
Of swooning winds, calm seas, and skies demure!_

_Let torrents pour then, let the great winds rally,  
Snow-silence fall, or lightning blast the pine;  
That light of Home shines warmly in the valley,  
And, exiled son of Scotland, it is thine.  
Far have you wandered over seas of longing,  
And now you drowse, and now you well may weep,  
When all the recollections come a-thronging  
Of this old country where your fathers sleep._

_They sleep, but still the hearth is warmly glowing,  
While the wild Winter blusters round their land:  
That light of Home, the wind so bitter blowing  
Look, look and listen, do you understand?  
Love, strength, and tempest-oh, come back and share them!  
Here is the cottage, here the open door;  
Fond are our hearts although we do not bare them,  
- They're yours, and you are ours for evermore._

_-- Neil Munro_

Lucas' voice was strong, still and full of reverence. As he spoke Lillian could see him walking through the rain-drenched heather, wrapped in plaid and kilt, armed with shield and spear; proud, wild and one with the hardy, battle-worn men around him.

The heat rose in her again as she thought of him like this; and Lillian wondered if they would ever get past this infatuated awkwardness. If one day, they would be sitting comfortably in a small, cosy living room, overlooking misty valleys, talking about the years that trailed behind them, about dreams for the future, about the mundane and the profound.

_But perhaps_ - the heavy arm of reality pulled her down from her soaring hopes - _perhaps this love may never have its chance_. It pained her to think of it, but a small niggling voice told her that all she had now, in this moment, was all she would ever get.

Without realising how far they had travelled, Lillian found herself standing before a set of stairs leading up to a dark balcony. It was flanked with tall marble pillars and a pair of ornate French doors leading to a private drawing room. A wave of warmth swept through her as she realised it was the same balcony where Lucas had revealed himself and rescued her on the night of Arabella's ball.

"Do you believe in love, Lily?" The way he said her name made a smile dance on her lips but it was soon gone with the weight of his question.

"My mother and father were madly in love," She began, sitting down on the step beside Lucas, as she recalled her parents' giddy happiness together with a wistful smile, "But they had to fight for it. As for me... It is a luxury I expect not, nor look not for."

"You would give up happiness in marriage if it meant a more comfortable life for your family." It was a statement, not a question.

It had all suddenly become so serious. Right then, everything was perfect; but it was fragile, balancing precariously on a ledge, and Lillian did not want to move; too scared to say something, to do something wrong that would make it all come crashing down.

She took a deep breath, wishing it were not true, but answered, "Yes, I would."

"I understand, Lily." He said kindly, sadly, nodding. "If it came to it, I would choose the same."

Lillian looked out into the garden, feeling a soft sadness settle around them. Compelled to shatter the stillness, she asked, "How did your parents marry?"

Lucas' gaze turned inward, "When my mother was young she met a strapping, handsome Scottish brogue" He smiled, "My father. They eloped, and my grandfather told her that if she did not return immediately her allowance would be cut off and given to her brother... Lord Lindsay. She would be left penniless. Needless to say, she did not return."

Rebellious admiration shone in his eyes and Lillian let her mind wander... Lucas and herself; wild and free, letting go of all responsibilities, family, burdens, and running away together wherever their love may take them. It was a fantasy as far-fetched as she had ever had, she thought with a sigh, thinking of the hard reality that sat like an ugly little troll between them, taunting them with a love that they may never have.

"Where is your mother?" Lillian asked casually.

Lucas look pained for a moment. "My mother is ill."

"Oh, I'm sorry I should not have inquired."

"No it is fine, really."

"May I ask what the illness is?"

"They do not know."

She chastised herself for prying, but could not help but ask: "Is it very grave?"

Lucas nodded. "The disease attacks her muscle control. Soon it will reach her lungs, her heart..." He paused, a frown formed in his forehead.

Lillian bit her lip, a pang of sympathy in her chest. "There is no cure?"

"There are treatments that can make her more comfortable, prolong her life, soften the worst effects of the disease... But they are expensive... And we do not have the means..." He trailed off, a frustrated look on his face, his voice suddenly beseeching, "You have to understand Lily, what my family has now my father built from nothing. He worked so hard to build his business, to provide for his family. He has been successful.... but it is still not enough." He finished sharply, running a hand angrily through his hair.

Lillian saw now how this responsibility, this pending grief, weighed on him and, after a thoughtful pause, stated quietly "That is why you are here..." Lucas looked at her, "for your mother." Her eyes were full of compassion, wanting to take his pain from him and make it her own.

Lucas gave a small smile and cradled her jaw, running his thumb over her cheek. She closed her eyes at the contact.

"Shrewd as well as beautiful..." He murmured as if to himself. "One day my father's lawyer came to us and he-" He stopped. "Lillian, I tell you this in the strictest of confidence."

"Of course" She nodded her curiosity immediately piquing.

"The lawyer told us that when Lord Lindsay dies, all his property will pass on to his closest male blood relation..." He looked at her meaningfully, waiting for something, for her to realise...

"Oh!" Lillian's eyes widened. "You?"

Lucas nodded. "Let us just say that ever since these truths became known to him, Lord Lindsay has been a little more... accommodating to my family." He smirked.

Lillian gazed around at their beautiful, extravagant surroundings. All _this_ would be his? Her heart began to beat a little quicker. What did this mean for her? Could love and happiness finally be possible?

"There you are!" A red-faced Arabella rounded the corner, hands on hips. "What on earth are you doing around here?" She narrowed her eyes at Lillian.

Lucas stood, offering Lillian his hand under Arabella's indignant gaze. Blushing, she took it and stood with him.

"You found us Arabella! We were wondering why it was taking so long." He turned to give Lillian a quick wink, before walking towards the scowling girl and offering his arm. She immediately melted.

"I lost you in the orchard, Lukey." She chided him with a playful pout. Lillian had the urge to retch. "You shouldn't have left me all alone like that." She turned away in pretence of giving him the cold shoulder.

"Really? I thought I'd lost you." His mouth twitched. "Lucky Lillian was there to help me back or I might be wandering around in the woods still."

"Oh stop it you naughty man," Arabella giggled, thinking the joke was for her. "Come, let us return the party, or they will be wondering what on earth we are up to." She looked at him through her eyelashes with a nauseating titter and Lillian almost felt sorry for the girl.

Almost.

She rolled her eyes and followed them back, fighting the urge to rip Arabella's hands off him, off the man whose hands had just been entwined in her hair, whose body had just been pressed hard against hers, whose lips...

She had to stop herself before she sighed out loud.

When they reached the doors, Arabella released his arm and let him go in before her, stopping Lillian as she tried to follow.

She looked inside furtively before whispering, "Did you hear what happened to him? Before he came to England?"

Lillian shook her head.

"Mama just told me this morning," She began, unable to keep the scandal to herself, "He was engaged, in Scotland, but she ran off with a richer man, the wench..." She watched for Lillian's reaction, not satisfied until she was met with a surprised "Oh,"

"I know. Understandably he's sworn never to get involved with an underprivileged woman again..." Lucas came into view through the doors and Arabella clucked her tongue. "Poor dear," She shook her head gazing at him with pity, "and with his mother dying as well... It just comforts me to know that I am bringing him some peace and happiness during our time together..."

Arabella turned and entered the room, into the luxury and warmth and lavishness that she knew would always be hers. She made a beeline for Lucas immediately, taking his arm and left Lillian outside, looking in, to wonder what this revelation and veiled threat meant for her and their precarious love.


	13. For Both, the Same Fate Overtakes

**_Chapter Thirteen_**

_For Both, the Same Fate Overtakes – Ecclesiastes 2:14_

When the first light of the sun's diluted rays cast a long white line across his bed, Lucas was awake and ready. His nervous anticipation, which kept him from sleep the entire night, now filled him with a strange energy and he leaped out of bed with fervour.

Today would either be the best day of his life, or the most heart-wrenching. It would cement a lifetime of happiness, or ensure his despair for years to come.

Out over the ocean, a crouching winter storm waited.

Downstairs, Lucas marched a dull relentless rhythm into the oriental rug. Soon it was joined by other footsteps passing through to the breakfast room, and his pacing was paused by one small pretty pair of feet.

"Aren't you joining us Lucas? Or were you waiting for me?" Arabella beamed expectantly.

"Neither actually, I am waiting for my father."

"Can't it wait Lukey?"

He shook his head. "It is imperative that I speak with him now."

Arabella could think only of one very important thing that was worth missing breakfast for, and so she left Lucas, skipping into breakfast, joyously aware that her fairytale would finally begin. She would have her prince and her riches and her freedom, as was her birthright.

After Lucas' plea could be practiced in his head no more; after what felt like hours; his father appeared at last, passing by unawares until Lucas called his name.

"You're up early Lucas." He remarked with surprise.

"I wanted to speak to you about something Father. Something very important."

"Surely it can wait until after breakfast?"

"It cannot." Lucas pleaded firmly.

"Well I also have something I wish to speak to you about, but," Alistair Boyd patted his round belly, "the stomach is king."

Lucas could hardly sit through the tepid torture that was breakfast, anticipating his father's finish with jiggling knees. He sighed and tutted pointedly all the while trying to avoid Arabella's odd little looks and smiles.

After an agonising wait, his father rose and nodded for Lucas to follow.

As soon as his foot was through the door Lucas took a deep breath and forced out the line he had practiced a thousand times.

"Father, I have found the woman that I want to marry."

Mr Boyd smiled warmly at his son and moved to pat him on the back. "That's the way son, I knew you would come around."

"You already knew?" Lucas asked, puzzled. Surely he had not seen them together?

"Of course my boy, did you think I could not see the way the two of you have been flirting? I am not so old that I cannot see when my son in love! Now," He began, rubbing his hands together, "for formality's sake I will speak to Lord Lindsay first, but I have no doubt that he will be just as anxious to get things underway."

"Lord Lindsay?" Lucas asked, his brow furrowed. "Father please forgive any disrespect, for there is none intended, but are you quite sure it is appropriate for Lord Lindsay to be involved in our wedding arrangements?"

"Of course it is appropriate!"

"I know that he and Colonel Gower are friends, but surely decorum states that her father should be approached first."

"Colonel Gower?" Mr Boyd blustered. "What in the dickens has this got to do with Colonel bloody Gower?"

"Well he is the father of the bride..."

"He is what?"

"He is Lillian's father." Lucas stated more forcefully, not understanding how his father could be so blunt.

"Lillian Gower?"

A beat. Something was very wrong.

"Father who did you think I was speaking of?" Lucas asked carefully.

"Who did I... Wh- I- th- Arabella of course!" He finally spluttered out.

The colour drained from Lucas's face, as his father's filled with red.

He spoke slowly, quietly, as if not to set off a wild beast. "You thought I was talking about marrying Arabella."

"Yes!" He barked. "Who else could you be speaking of? Don't you dare say Lillian bloody Gower..."

How could this have happened? Lucas recalled his father mention in passing that Arabella was now of 'marrying age' but not for a second did he think of _himself_ as the prospective suitor.

He took a deep breath. "Father, I cannot marry Arabella. She is just a child. I love Lillian bloody Gower, as you call her."

"You love... Are you daft boy? What on earth do you think we are here for?"

"For Ma... We need help for Ma."

"How? Did you think Lord Lindsay would just throw the money at our feet and say, 'Be on your way'?"

"I thought-"

"No you didn't think boy!" Mr Boyd shouted, slamming his fist down on the desk. "You have not gone and done something stupid like proposed to the Gower girl have you?" Lucas shook his head and Mr Boyd straightened up, regaining his composure. "Good. Now, Lindsay and I will be making the arrangements - tying up loose ends etcetera – here, so prepare yourself to leave for London shortly. It is where Arabella wishes to live. This is where you will have a meeting with Mr Bailey Jones, a well respected architect, who has very generously offered to assist us in opening up a firm in the city. When you have found appropriate living quarters – and do not forget Arabella's tastes – and feel sufficiently settled into the firm, you will return here and propose to Arabella. Now-"

"Wait." Lucas tried, but his father ignored him.

"-we are expecting the wedding will happen in about three months, give or take, at the local church. I estimate around two hundred guests, that should suit them! Arabella and her mother can sort out all the pretty details – we will need to tailor a suit for you – actually better do that while you're in London..."

"I cannot." Lucas said quietly.

"What?"

He took a deep breath, resolve building. "Father, I will not marry Arabella."

"You what?" Mr Boyd said dangerously.

"I am sorry father, but there is only one woman that I love, and I am going to ask for her hand in marriage." Lucas walked into the entry hall to retrieve his hat, and opened the front door.

His father followed. "You think love is going to save your mother?!" He shouted after a fast disappearing Lucas. "If you leave now boy you may as well hammer the nails into her coffin!"

The black steed bore Lucas toward his fate with frightening speed. The beasts pounding, hooves matched his own heartbeat.

Swallows whipped and dived ahead, their enviable velocity and carelessness causing a frustrated roar to tear out of Lucas.

He kicked in his heels, leaning closer, and willed his horse faster.

As Luckington Court emerged over the horizon.


	14. When the Messenger Cometh

**_Chapter Fourteen_**

_When the Messenger Cometh – 2 Kings 6:32_

The waves roared, slamming themselves destructively against the cliffs below; the white spray leaping up as if clawing out to reach them.

"Ugh! I am sure that Arabella gets worse and worse as each day goes by!" Rosemary threw a clump of grass vehemently to the ground. "But there is one thing to be comforted by Lily... She thinks she has something to be jealous of. If only she knew the truth! Oh to see the look on her face, I would give up my blue bonnet!" She said with a wicked laugh.

Lillian and Rosemary were settled on a grassy knoll high above the roling, turbulent sea. Lillian's knees tucked under her chin, arms wrapped around them; Rosemary sprawled out on her stomach, making daisy chains. The clouds above were ominous and gray, threatening rain at any moment; but if Lillian had not got Rosemary away from the house as soon as she had, she was quite sure she would have been strangled by her sister's curiosity. And so they had ambled about the rolling green hills, picking wildflowers as Rosemary pried for more and more details of the thrilling night before which Lillian delivered with blushing modesty.

Lillian had not, however, divulged the secret of Lucas' inheritance. As much as she wanted to share every detail with her dear sister, this secret she had promised to keep safe.

"So how long do you think it will be until he proposes?" Rosemary's elated face beamed up at her sister, hands clasped under her chin.

"Rosie we must not jump to conclusions..."

"Lillian! Surely he is not such a man that would behave so and then desert you, is he?"

"Of course not." Lillian bit her lip to hide the hopeful smile that threatened to burst forth.

"Well then what other conclusion is there?" She raised her eyebrows.

Lillian lowered her head and blushed. "Perhaps you are right." She raised her eyes, taking her sisters hands. "Oh Rosemary, I think you may be right!" Lillian exclaimed with glee, toppling them both over onto the grass with as she hugged her, laughing ecstatically.

"Lily! You are ruining my dress!" Rosemary tried to scold her sister but could not stop laughing. A low distant rumble threatened their blissful state. "Come on, we'd better get home in case we miss this pending proposal!"

As Lillian and Rosemary practically skipped over the hill behind their home, they saw a young man rushing out of the door.

Rosemary grabbed her sister's arm. "Lily, I think that's Lucas!"

Lillian's heart soared when she recognised his fine, retreating form. "Lucas!" she called, waving her arms.

She ran towards his retreating form, picking up her skirt as the wind whipped about her.

"Lucas!" She shouted.

He did not turn back, but instead mounted his horse and galloped frantically away.

Lillian slowed her scrambling feet and came to a halt, as Rosemary caught up beside her.

"He did not hear me..." She murmured, her heart sinking in disappointment.

Rosemary frowned. "But he was not that far away as too not have heard us..."

Lillian did not hear her. "I must find Papa!" She said urgently.

As soon as she entered the house she began calling for him. "Papa?"

There was no answer.

"Papa?" she called again, peeking into the study. He usually spent most of his time indoors in this room, pouring over their dissolving fortune. And here he was. His back toward her, he stood at the large window, staring out at the grey ocean lying on the horizon.

"Papa, why did Lucas call?" She asked innocently as she entered the room.

"What?" Colonel Gower asked sharply, startled out of his reverie. "Sorry love, what did you ask?"

She clasped her hands behind her back as she walked further into the room. "I was just wondering why Lucas Boyd called by."

"Oh, you saw him did you? You er, did not speak with him?"

"No... He left too quickly."

His look of concern quickly turned to one of temporary relief. "Ah... he was... er merely delivering a message from Lord Lindsay." He finished quickly.

"What was this message?" She asked, one sceptical eyebrow raised.

"What? Oh, ah... that the quails are ready for shooting again."

Lillian was not convinced; but the certainty that her father was hiding something meant that Lucas had come for a reason other than quails, and that reason could very well be the fairytale ending she had just been conjuring up with Rosemary.

"Surely, Father, Lord Lindsay has his own messengers for that sort of thing?" She asked with gleeful suspicion.

"Yes, well I believe Lucas was in the neighbourhood and offered to drop by... Never mind that," He changed his tone abruptly, "there is another, more important matter that I wish to speak to you about."

Lillian could not think of anything more important than an engagement with Lucas Boyd, but humoured her father. "Yes?"

"It concerns Rupert Wagstaff..." He began carefully.

"Ugh, what has he done now?"

"Well, it is more a question of what you can do for him, Lily." When Lillian did not reply, puzzled as she was, he continued. "The Wagstaff's are a very respectable family in our County and Rupert is set to inherit the entire estate. Lord and Lady Lindsay have advised me, and I wholeheartedly agree, that the pairing is a wonderful idea and I was hoping... wondering, if you had given any thought to the match."

"I'm sorry, to what?" She was finding it hard to follow. As if the conversation was a horse that without warning had bucked her, the rider, and sped away; leaving her behind to wonder what on earth had just happened.

"To Rupert Wagstaff darling."

"To Rupert? Father, Rupert Wagstaff is a brute. Plan and simple. I would not marry that man if he had twice his allowance."

"But love can soften a man, my dear. You girls have softened me. I used to be a fearsome leader before your mother came along. Steely Gower, they used to call me. Men would polish their brass buttons ten times over if I was on the inspection round. Then I met your mother..." He chuckled quietly. "I would have been an embarrassment to Her Majesty's Armed Services if they had seen me with her..."

"Yes, but Papa," she placed her hands over his, imploring him to understand, "Mama loved you with all her heart, and you her. You married for love, and I am certain I could never love Rupert Wagstaff. Do you really think he could love me as you loved Mama?"

"Not as much as you would deserve." He replied warmly, then as if remembering something troubling, his face was suddenly strained.

"What is the matter Papa? Do not worry about me marrying. I know the right man will come along soon. He may even be right under our noses!" She smiled at her wonderful secret.

Colonel Gower turned a calculating stare upon her when she said this, the kind that once left brave young soldiers quaking in their mirrored boots. But soon it softened and he turned back to the window.

"There is a man who loves you Lillian," He said in a distant, sorrowful voice, "And you will never know just how much..."

Lillian was confused by his suddenly sombre mood, but assumed it was sadness at losing his daughters to marriage.

"Do you mean yourself Papa?" She asked, her large, green trusting eyes gazing up at him. She hugged his broad old chest tightly, the way she had done when she was a young girl. "We will never leave you Papa, never."

Colonel Phillip Gower stroked his eldest daughter's hair. A rare wave of guilt swept over him. Was he doing the right thing, or ruining a chance at happiness? _No_, he thought, of course he was right; the blessings and support of wealthy friends mattered more to the survival of his family than the fleeting feelings of youth. He had made sacrifices for them before, and this was no different. _Yes, that's it_, he thought, settling back into his dwelling of comfortable assuredness. In the large scheme of things, it was for the future benefit of his family.


End file.
